Poetry
Photography Sculptures/Ceramics Glassworks
"Game" Jason Vana |
“Scotty”
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"Change" Lush, fertile green grass Derek J. Rakoci
"Winter" Velvety, flakes waft Derek J. Rakoci |
Lauren Watanabe |
"Time" Time Lauren Watanabe |
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"Passion" Passion Lauren Watanabe |
"Goodbye" Goodbye Lauren Watanabe |
| Rebecca Stachnik | ||
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"Heaven" Held at the Golden Gates
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"Victim" She walks alone |
"Reflection" Gazing into an image in a mirror
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"30 Seconds of Pleasure"
Theodore R. Ross, Jr.
It’s not my fault, I tried my
best,
This has never happened before, you’re different from the rest.
I tried to take my time, I just couldn’t control it,
The moment we touched, my mind and body exploded.
I know you don’t believe me, but please let me prove it to you,
Whatever you want, I will surely do.
I really can’t believe this happened, I am so ashamed,
Every time I think about it my stomach gives me a sharp pain.
You really shouldn’t judge me based on what I did,
This is something that could have happened to any kid.
I guess you’re right; there is no excuse,
But before we started I didn’t drink my protein juice.
I’m finally done and I don’t want to talk anymore,
Next time I’ll just spend my money on a 30 second whore.
Click
Here for Other Poems by Theodore R. Ross, Jr.
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" Attraction"
Aaron J Cluka |
"The
Journey Lisa Williams Your
back full of blood, The
whips tore Your skin, Punished
for who You are, Although
free of sin. The
weapon across Your back, During
this walk of pain, Yet,
by this journey, We
will remember Your name. The
crown on Your head, Full
of needlelike thorns, Blood
gushes down, As
Your sad mother mourns. The
journey now ends, Your
nailed to the cross, All
of Your people, About
to mourn their loss. A
spear through Your side, To
make sure your dead, Now
Your blood is our wine, Your
body our bread. |
“Forsaken”
Ben Fishel
Falling back out of the light,
his days have become permanent nights.
Clutching tightly onto what is not there,
most thoughts convoluted by his prayers.
Slipping on the wet stones of life,
filling up his belly with pain and strife.
Pushing away platters full of joy,
this life has revealed a fragile boy.
Happiness was mistaken,
for all his friends now forsaken.
His sentences no longer make complete thoughts,
inside his shell he is doomed to sit and rot.
"Warm Heaven"
Ben Fishel
She sits in the lotus position on the soiled black carpet.
The spike glistens in the pale sunlight that burns through the faded curtains.
She watches the broken vein in her fragile arm pulse with the beat of her heart.
The spike punctures the delicate flesh and sends a warm heaven into her brain.
Her sunken eyes roll back as every muscle in her worn body relaxes.
She stares at a blank white wall and imagines a better life.
"Intent"
Alison Novak
She flaunts her flawed morals impetuously
toward boy after boy and man after man.
She spikes her hair and curls it with such efficiency
that it sometimes reminds me of a spider spinning
her most perfect web, keeping every strand in place.
We’re all the same to them
so shall it be all the same to me, she thinks
as she paints her lips the color of cherries or whatever
matches her latest outfit.
While she thinks to herself,
Where will I sleep tonight?
Hurtling through the puddle of mud that
stirs in her mind she realizes everything is the same.
She stumbles into the party with her hair in perfect place.
Surveying the room she quickly finds a mark.
It’s only a game she says; no one will ever get hurt.
The next morning she stifles a sob as he replaces his shirt
stained the color of cherries and walks out the door.
She’ll never know his name or even
where they met.
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"Purpose" Alison Novak Late at night when the heaters moan, and the shadows dance on the wall reflecting from the iridescent glow of a night light I wonder what it all is for. Why did I start that fight with him? Why didn’t I read more today? Why can’t I sleep at night? What is the meaning of life? I wonder if I can take it back, maybe tomorrow will be the start of today. I hope for understanding and pray for the night to continue on in it’s own world of forgiveness. |
"Style" Alison Novak Coarse or refined, it tumbles at your sides. You pick at it and play relentlessly. Twirl ! Curl ! Fluff ! Big ! Small ! Straight ? The choices endlessly tease your mind. Up or down? Brown or purple? Clip? The result could be detrimental, ultimately you surrender.
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"My Kindred Spirit"
Anonymous
I know your wounds because we share the same ones.
For these are battle wounds of long ago, battles that were fought in the mystical land of good and evil.
Though these wars are in our past we carry those scars always, on our hearts and with the nightmares that haunt our every thought.
Know, warrior, that you are not alone now, as you were not alone when you received those injuries to your soul.
I ask only one thing of you, open yourself to me, as you have never done before. I will ease the aching that tortures you.
If you do this, I make the only promise that I can keep. I will be there for you through all the battles of the ages.
"The Kiss Begins the Adventure"
Ariane Harris
Candles flicker,
illuminating the steeple,
crepe paper dangling from benches
a white walkway lining the aisle.
He stands in black
with a touch of white
and a band across his waist.
Waiting.
Wrapped in ivory and lace
small hairs brush the nape of her neck
her arms envelop flowers
as she glides down the walkway
Fingers intertwine.
Proclaiming love,
their unity is lit,
and a kiss begins the journey.